


Spell-Tacular

by littlemisskookie



Category: PRISTIN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: 50s au, 60s AU, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst, Ass Play, Cancer, Choking, D/s undertones, Daddy Kink, Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Oral, Public Sex, Squirting, ass eating, blowjob, face fucking, major death, pussy slapping, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 13:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18829723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisskookie/pseuds/littlemisskookie
Summary: Despite living in the same neighborhood and going to the same school since diapers, you were a complete enigma to Yoongi. It wasn’t until you save his life that he realizes exactly what you are- and loves it.





	Spell-Tacular

Yoongi knew you were different- though good or bad, he wasn’t quite sure.

The two of you had lived in the tiny town your entire lives, and though everyone knew everything about everybody, that wasn’t the case with you and your family. The group never seemed to venture far our outside of their house, and you were the only one frequently seen, though you stayed to yourself. Yoongi was never sure if that was because you wanted to stay alone, or because the entire town saw you and your people as an aloof freakshow.

Not that they had absolutely no reason to, however. 

Your family was constantly seen wearing the weirdest clothes- bold and wild colors rather than the mundane browns that others wore. Most of the women in the suburbs wore heels and elegant dresses that reached knee length, supporting their husbands as they went off to war and heading to the factories. Your mother didn’t seem to work in the factories though- but it wasn’t as though she spent much time at home. It was the same way for her even during the depression. The few times your mother was seen she had worn combat boots with a purple cape, her face obscured by the hood, but one could tell that her hair had been held in a tight bun. On the few occasions that her face was seen, it was remarked that she had sunken in eyes as well as dark bags, as though the woman hadn’t heard of makeup. Even once everyone was able to afford and buy it.

Your father was a more mysterious case. He didn’t seem to do combat and join the army forces the way the other men did, but even after, he didn’t work at the schools or the factories. He did dress better than your mother, however, though that wasn’t a hard task to accomplish. The bow ties and clothing was far out of style, as though he had picked something up from decades before. He had the same dark circles but was somehow prestigious, his beard grown and his glasses perched upon the tip of his nose. He was more approachable, despite being aloof and shrouded with just as much mystery.

The neighborhood pitied their only daughter, having to grow up with such strange parents. You lived in the giant mansion up on the hill, and though it seemed run down, it still was eerily majestic. Many of the neighborhood boys claimed it was haunted by the looks of it, but something told Yoongi it was far deeper than that. He couldn’t quite place what was off about it, though.

Yoongi’s mother recounted one of the days she was off work and stayed at the daycare with the other moms and toddlers, and though Yoongi was too young to remember the incident, many of the witnesses that day can recall it with the same level of detail and accuracy.

Your mother wasn’t interacting with the other women in the room, who would babble on about obscure things and their humdrum lives as their children played. Instead, she kept her eyes on you with a bored expression. It wasn’t as though she were hovering over you or giving you that eagle-eye stare- overprotective parents were common. No, it seemed bored, as though she were expecting something.

And true enough, it did.

Out of the blue, the stuffed animal in your hand erupted into flames, fire catching onto it quickly enough. You held onto it, though, unreactive to the screams of the mothers around you, and not at all reactive to the fire.

Your mother, on the other hand, calmly picked it up and dropped it to the floor, stomping on it with her worn out boot until the flames were extinguished. She then sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and wearing the same undazed expression as you picked up the burnt and charred stuffed animal and continued what you were doing.

That wasn’t the only time unnatural stuff occurred around you, however. By the time your grade had enrolled in school, there were odd occurrences. Your parents were no longer seen around, and because you lived further on top of the hill, the bus didn’t pick you up. Yoongi would wonder how you found so much energy to walk to and from school every day, but you didn’t seem to mind that. Maybe you just liked being alone instead of on a bus with rowdy kids who wouldn’t want to talk to you anyway.

Throughout elementary school, there would be odd occurrences. In 2nd grade, Jung Eunwoo had made fun of the second-hand dress that was too loose on your body, comparing it to a paper bag. After recess that same day, the water fountain randomly combusted while Eunwoo was taking a drink, and she was soaked from head to toe.

In fifth grade, you were playing dodgeball during P.E., and Yoongi, popular despite how overly stoic he could seem, had picked you first out of kindness, knowing you’d often be picked last. You had seemed surprised by the gesture, busy reading through some thick, dusty textbook, but nevertheless joined. It was during that match that Jeon Jungkook, (an infamous cheater at the game who had given all too many people nosebleeds and tears, one time even cornering a girl and knocking her out with a single blow), had fainted mid-game after cornering you. Apparently, he passed out the moment he raised his arm to pummel you. Your team won by a landslide, but he was still shocked and confused over what happened that day.

Another event was in middle school, sixth grade when your grade was in the midst of puberty, acne and all. Your hair was frizzy, different from your parents, who always had it slicked back. Instead, it was as though you had been electrified, your hair static and standing on edge. You and the other girls in school were just beginning to grow curves and breasts, and despite how you were becoming more attractive through the slow process of puberty, people still didn’t approach you. It didn’t seem as though you’d mind, though, your nose always buried in the latest dusty textbook. Yoongi had once made the mistake of waiting all week for you at the library to see if you’d show up, but you never did. He assumed you just got the books from your house.

What truly solidified Yoongi’s suspicions of your abnormal behaviors was next year, when you both in your last stage of preteen awkwardness, soon to be official teenagers. Yoongi had been tracked down on his way back home and was currently being jumped by a few upperclassmen, brutish high schoolers, intent on asserting their dominance on the gangly-limbed boy who they had stumbled upon. Yoongi was just an easy target, walking by himself, and with a lack of an impressive build. He wasn’t the type to wear the leather jackets or grease his hair, as the typical 50s trend was. He was too young to truly catch up on much, quite frankly. Though he doubted that was the reason he was targetted. Despite the fact he’d later become the captain of the basketball team, he never seemed to have an intimidating stature when it came to height.

It was three other boys who didn’t have anything better to do. No, they weren’t jocks or delinquents- hell, Yoongi didn’t know which stereotypical cliques they’d be classified from. It wasn’t really the point- they were just boys trying to pick a fight that they knew they’d win.

At that point Yoongi had a busted lip and had crumpled on the floor, the three mocking him with flicks on the forehead and slaps at the back of the head, teasing him for his incapability to properly defend himself from three bullies. They continuously taunted him, pounding their fists and so on. It wasn’t as though Yoongi could call 911, as cellphones hadn’t existed back then, and the nearest pay phone wasn’t in the neighborhood. He couldn’t call out for help either since no one else was on the path to his suburban neighborhood, and he had to stay after school for basketball auditions.

He was trapped.

It wasn’t until a girl with polka-dot magenta dress sauntered behind the boys when no one was paying attention. If Yoongi was looking out at his surroundings in the meantime, he would’ve recognized you from a mile away. It wasn’t the boots that you always wore or the frizzy hair that was the icing on the cake, but rather the oversized goggles you constantly wore, pushed back like a headband to keep the wisps of hair out of your face. Sure, the fashion had switched from poodle skirts to tight jeans, but you were every bit as strange as your parents.

Yoongi had his arms over his head and was curled up in a ball to protect his face and vital organs. It wasn’t until he heard a sharp yelp that his head snapped up, seeing you with your hand on one of the boys’ shoulders, who had crumpled to his knees and shook violently before Yoongi. It was as though he was suffering from a violent seizure, his eyes rolling back and his body convulsing before him. In the distance, Yoongi could faintly make out the other two running away, and it wasn’t until he fell flat on the floor, blacking out, that Yoongi allowed himself to breathe.

You wore a calm expression on your face, shoving your hands in your pockets as you looked down at Yoongi. You raised a brow, studying his face as though you had never seen it before, despite the fact you two had been in the same classes since you were in diapers.

“Are you ok, Yoongi?” you questioned, examining the blood at the corner of his lip where they had busted it.

“Y…Yeah,” Yoongi said softly. He felt somewhat scared to question you about what had just happened, seeing as he could barely process it himself.

You kneeled down, face to face with him. Yoongi realized at that moment just how pretty you were. Weird and unusual, but pretty nonetheless. You weren’t like Samantha Baker, who always had her hair smooth and skin flawless, but you had an undeniable beauty to you that someone could only notice if they looked at you from close up. Most people were ugly close up, as you could see their flaws and imperfections, but it was the opposite for you.

You reached out, brushing your thumb against the wound. Yoongi hissed and recoiled from the sting, and you withdrew your hand, some of the blood getting on your thumb.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, flinching as well. “It’s not that bad- it’ll heal in no time, I’m sure. I’ve got some medicine at my place that should do the trick. I’d understand if you’d rather be left alone, though.”

“No, it’s ok.  I’ll come,” Yoongi said. He didn’t know why he said it. It wasn’t as though he knew you that well. Hell, you two weren’t even friends, really. Besides, as curious as he was about your house and family, it wasn’t as though he was itching for the opportunity to take a peek inside. Maybe… maybe he just wanted a little longer around you.

The two of you walked together towards your mansion on the hill, and though Yoongi didn’t necessarily find it creepy or eery as did his friends, there was still an air of mystery to it.

As soon as you two approached the rusted gate at the base of the walkway to the mansion, it swung open for you two, and before he knew it the two of you were at the front door.

“Wait here,” you said, easily opening the door and closing it behind you. Yoongi wondered why you didn’t use a key, as it seemed rather foolish to leave such a prestigious house unlocked. He supposed, however, that it was none of his business. He was left staring at the face of the door knocker, a stone dragon with its mouth hanging wide open, the hoop clinging to its jaws between the monstrous teeth. It was so wide open, Yoongi figured he could fit the meat of his arm inside.

He was suddenly startled when he heard various crashing noises from the other side, and soon enough the door swung open. Your goggles were lopsided and your clothes fit funny, but you welcomed him in. To his surprise, the inside of the house was dusty but organized, despite the sounds of a quarrel earlier.

“Stay here. I’ll get the medicine,” you say, quickly leaving him to observe the house.

It was old and antique, looking ancient but expensive. He looked around, noticing how every inch of the walls was covered with bookshelves piled with dusty textbooks or scrolls. Some of the walls were covered in knickknacks, such as pictures or empty frames, or horseshoes and clocks. Needless objects covered each spare foot, some with writing that Yoongi had never seen before.

He heard the shuffling of footsteps all around him, or the sound of furniture moving, but each time he turned around to find the source of the noise… nothing.

Eventually, he found himself placed in front of a giant painting of your parents.

He could see where you got your quiet beauty from. Your father had strong features, despite how hidden it was. Your mother, for once depicted without the infamous hood, had a sultry and mysterious look, her dark makeup complimenting her image. The two of them appeared stern and broody, and Yoongi wondered how long they had to pose in order for the painter to portray them as old grumps.

“There you are. I was worried you had wandered off.”

He turned, and in your hand, you held a bottle. You placed your hand on his cheek, your fingers warm as you made him face you. “Stay still,” you spoke, pouring some of the ointment onto your fingers.

Your fingers brushed against his parted lips, and he felt tense. He had kissed a girl- what was so nerve-wracking about one touching his lips? Was it just because he was twelve, and got nervous over every girl in proximity? Or was it more?

“Hey, where are your parents? I would figure they’d be curious about a guy being over and all…” Yoongi wondered.

Your hand stilled in mid-air, and you were silent for a minute. Yoongi was worried about your pause when you spoke. “They’re dead.”

Yoongi’s eyes were wide, but before he could speak you held your hand up to silence him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize- it isn’t your fault. Besides, it’s not like I’m really torn up over it. They’ve been dead for about a year.”

“Since you were eleven?” Yoongi gawked. “How did you stay alone in this huge mansion all by yourself? Go to school every day? And the bills for this place must be huge!”

You gave him a weak smile, your cheeks getting a dusty color. “I manage. I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone, though. They don’t notice since my parents weren’t exactly known for going out often, but still, it’d cause a lot of hassle if the word were to get out. I know my parents wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“You have my word,” Yoongi solemnly promised.

You gave him a genuine smile at that and went back to put the medicine back in its proper place. Yoongi looked around, but when he looked back up to the painting, he saw your father’s smile, and one of his eyes shut to give him a wink.

Yoongi let out a yelp in surprise, stepping back to bump into one of the sofas. It skidded far more forward than he had expected, and soon you were running back in.

“What is it? What happened?” Your eyes were wide as you looked to Yoongi frantically.

“T-The painting- Your dad-” Yoongi pointed to the painting in question, peering back up at it, only to see that the painting was back in its original state. He gawked in surprise, his jaw slack. “Wait, what? I swear- the picture- your father- he had smiled and was winking and- it moved!”

You shook your head at him, brows furrowed. “Pictures don’t move, Yoongi.”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

Yoongi wondered for a moment if you were gaslighting him, but he couldn’t exactly confront you properly at that. Soon enough, you were escorting him from the premises. “I don’t think this house is doing you much good. Besides, you’ve had a stressful day, it’s natural for you to be seeing things. I’ll see you around.”

Before he could protest, you closed the door in his face, separating you two with the wooden barrier. Yoongi took notice to how the dragon’s trap was shut this time around, and surprisingly, the next morning his busted lip had completely healed.

The bullies wouldn’t be able to recall the events of what happened, as though it were completely wiped from their memory, and Yoongi was left wondering what exactly about you made all these things possible. His eye was kept on you in class, noting how even when your backpack was filled with textbooks from both home and school, you were able to lift it as though it were as light as a feather. Other times, when he’d see you running through the hallways to get from place to place, he could swear your feet didn’t even touch the ground, a mere inch separating the soles of your rundown combat boots to the tile. No one seemed to notice how you were able to get into locked rooms without the teacher’s key.

At this point, Yoongi wasn’t even sure you were human.

It was when you were eating lunch alone about a week after that Yoongi finally found the guts to approach you. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. At this point he had found a respectable reputation with your grade, already making it onto the basketball. Hell, rumor had it that Lim Nayoung had the hots for him, and in 7th grade, she was considered to be the prettiest dolly in class. For a twelve-year-old, that is.

But instead of simply swallowing whatever lingering curiosity he felt towards you, and playing it safe, he sat next to you.

You took a moment to realize he was sitting next to you, as you had your hands on a dusty book as always. It wasn’t until Yoongi gave an awkward cough that you looked up, perplexed. You blinked in surprise. “Can I help you?”

Yoongi could feel the stares of his friends at the nearby table, their gazes burning through his skull, their murmurs audible. “I just wanted to talk. I realized I never properly thanked you. Thank you for what happened next week. I am grateful.”

“It was nothing,” you said simply, returning back to your book.

His face flushed red at the rejection, and he could hear the snickers of his friends behind him. Still, he persisted a bit. “I was wondering if you’d want to walk home together? We take the same path.”

Your brows furrowed as you locked eyes with him. “No thank you.”

He felt his heart sink. “I… respect your decision. But is it alright if I ask why?”

“I just don’t want to be a source of amusement for your friends. They make fun of me enough,” you shrug. Yoongi’s mind wandered to when Nayoung and Eunwoo were commenting on how weird you were, murmuring and snickering to themselves about your weird books and funny clothes. It was no secret that you were seen as an oddball, as was the rest of your family. It was understandable that you had your reservations.

“I want you to know that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to spend some time with you. Get to know you better, y'know?” He paused, eliciting no reaction from you. He sighed. “I’ll leave you alone then. Sorry for bothering you.”

He walked back to his table, dejected. His friends hollered and slapped him on the back, snickering at his reaction.

“What made you go for weirdo Y/N of all girls? Got a type for freams?” one friend joked.

“Shut up, Jimin,” Yoongi hissed. “You’re the one who’s mental, considering the fact you got your head stuck in a chair.”

“It was one time!”

“What Jimin’s saying is that you don’t want to get involved with her. After all, she’s her mother’s daughter,” another friend pointed out.

Yoongi’s lips pursed in annoyance. “It’s not the 1800’s anymore, let’s not express prejudice. The adults do that enough for us. Besides, I can say the same about you, Taehyung, and your mother collects bath salts.”

“Wow, this crush has got you acting bonkers!” Jimin commented, wincing at Yoongi’s low blow. “What’s got you so whipped? I didn’t even think you knew Y/N.”

“Forget about it, ok? It’s not a crush. What’s wrong with a guy wanting to be friends with someone?”

“As much as she may not look- or act- like one, she is still a girl,” Taehyung pointed out.

“So?”

“So? You’re a boy. A straight one at that. I don’t know what Y/N is, but considering the fact I saw her gawk at Kim Seokjin before he moved- right when he got his braces off if you remember- I’d say she’s a straight girl.”

“Get to the point,” Yoongi grunted.

“It’s a fundamental fact that boys and girls can’t be friends.”

“That’s bull,” Yoongi immediately replied.

“Just admit you want to jump her bones.”

“My intentions are completely innocent, unlike you pervs.”

The conversation was long forgotten until after lunch when you approached Yoongi, book clutched to your chest.

“I heard you defend me,” you said simply, your voice monotonous.

“Oh, uh, it was nothing. Just the decent thing to do,” Yoongi replied awkwardly. God, why was he so nervous around you when he had Lim Nayoung of all people up his ass?

“It was.” You were silent for a moment, a pregnant pause between the two of you. “If you really want to walk with me to and from school, I’m ok with that. I of all people shouldn’t have judged you so quickly. You seem to be a decent guy.”

“Really? You’re ok with that?” His brows seemed to disappear into his hairline.

“I am,” you nodded. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get your ass beat again.”

Yoongi laughed at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that brought the first smile he had ever seen on your lips.

Time seemed to drag on before it was after school, and he found himself tapping his foot impatiently, anxiety filling him as he waited for you. You approached soon enough, the flurry of students escaping the building far ahead of you.

“You came,” you commented.

“I’m the one who suggested this. I wasn’t going to just stand you up,” Yoongi shrugged, adjusting his backpack.

The two of you walked side by side, unsure of what to talk about.

Yoongi, being the dumbass he was, simply questioned what he had been wondering this entire time. “How’d you beat up those guys last week?”

“What do you mean?”

“Even if you’re some expert fighter, being a small, younger girl against multiple bigger guys- it doesn’t make sense,” Yoongi questioned. “It’s impossible.”

“Is that why you asked me to walk with you?”

“No. Not completely. One of the reasons, I suppose. It’s been on my mind. All of it- what I remember at least- was unnatural.”

You hummed to yourself. “I dunno- dumb luck I guess.”

“You didn’t use any weapons.”

“I don’t carry a knife on me if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“You just touched him and he passed out. A seizure.”

“You were seeing things. You took a few blows to the head.”

“Don’t gaslight me!” Yoongi exclaimed, suddenly frustrated. “I know what I saw. I don’t know why you’re lying to my face.”

You were silent for a moment, the two of you stop in your tracks. You studied his face. “Why are you so interested in me? Is it really because of that day?”

“I’ve been interested in getting to know you for a while now- but that was the catalyst,” Yoongi guessed. “I knew something was off. The others may think you’re weird, but they think that because of your hair or your family or your clothes. I just thought you wanted to keep to yourself but… I don’t know, there seems to be more to you than there is to others. Same thing with your family. Things don’t add up. What I saw, your house- everything. I’m not going to blab to others if that’s what you’re wondering, but I can’t deny what I saw.”

You pursed your lips. “You really should just forget about me, Yoongi.”

“Is it why you don’t have any friends?” Yoongi questioned. “I mean, why you stay to yourself all the time, just reading textbooks? Could you be doing everything you do just to keep others away? Most people join clubs or branch out or let people approach them but you’re-”

“Different,” you interrupted. “So you’ve said, as cliche as it is.”

“I’m not going to judge you,” Yoongi promised. “I really do want to be your friend- no funny business. From what I can tell you don’t have any, but truthfully that doesn’t seem very healthy. If you really want me to leave you alone, just tell me to fuck off. I’ll pretend none of this ever happened. However, I think you and I both know that you need at least one good friend in this world. I can’t help that I’m drawn to you, wanting to get to know you. So I’d really like it if you’d let me.”

After he finished his little speech, there was a pause. He was anxious and tense, waiting for your response. You simply stared at him with those big, blank eyes of yours, and he wondered if you were really going to tell him to fuck off despite his proposal of friendship.

Instead, you sucked in a breath. “I can’t believe I’m considering this.”

He felt elated, excited, and shocked. “So yes?”

“You won’t believe me. Let’s go to my place, and I’ll explain. You’re right- I do owe you an explanation. What you saw was real, and I shouldn’t gaslight you or lie to you. You’re perhaps one of the only people at school who’s decent to me, and as much as I hate to admit it, I do need a friend. If anyone’s going to be that friend, it’ll be you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Yoongi wasn’t insulted, only curious.

You turned back to him, lips pressed in a tight line. “You’re the only one who’s given me a chance. It’s only fair I do the same for you.”

-

Yoongi took in a deep breath the moment he stepped inside of your house, breathing in the scent. The scent was something similar to when someone opens a new book for the first time, breathing in the freshly made pages.

You departed momentarily, only to return shortly with two vials in hand.

You hand one to him. “I just want you to know, you have no reason to trust me. We’re virtually strangers.”

“I’m kinda trying to fix that.”

“I’m just giving you a heads up that any suspicions you have are understandable. Once we do this, it’ll be impossible for you to… I don’t want to say back out, or forget. Maybe unsee? It’s a point we can’t turn from, you and I, and I’m taking a big risk by doing this.”

“Well, let’s do it already,” Yoongi huffed. “Blabber all you want, but I thought we established this already.”

You shrug nonchalantly, not taking his impatience to heart. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any last minute reservations. Should’ve figured with a persistent Clyde like you. Very well, then. Link our arms together, and then take it like a shot. It’s going to taste bitter, so I’ve been told.”

“Like some sort of circled couple, huh?” Yoongi questions, quirking a brow. “What does this do?”

“It’s similar to the wedding thing, yes. What I’ll say and show you will seem crazy, though. It’ll link our souls together so that no matter how far away we are from each other, we’re bonded. It’s a soulmate sort of thing, our souls entwined. It means we can’t be spiritually separated unless there are desperate means, a painful process, might I add. We’ll barely sense the other’s intense emotions, but that’s about as freaky as that gets. After we drink, I’ll tell you what you want to know, and the bond will prevent you from spilling to outsiders.”

“Why does it not affect you?” Yoongi is unfazed, trying to keep his cool so that you don’t suddenly get cold feet.

“It’s my secret- and it does affect me, seeing as I’m going to be bonded to your ass for the rest of eternity,” you huff. “You still in?”

“Fuck yeah,” Yoongi says crassly, a sideways grin spreading across his face, growing more so once he sees you mimic it. “Let’s do this.”

Your arms intertwine, and you both tilt your head back, taking a shot of the bitter liquid. You were right, it was bitter. Yoongi felt as though he were taking a cumshot.

After your arms loosen, both of you wag your tongues out, trying to get the bitter taste out of your mouth.

“Dear god, that’s disgusting. Remind me never to tell you any secrets that I can’t risk getting out,” Yoongi spat.

You coughed and sputtered, nodding your head at the statement. Once you both calmed down, your breathing evening, you huff.

Yoongi waits patiently for what you’re about to say.

“I’m a witch,” you say. “Magical, that is. My entire family is and we live among you all.”

Well,  _that_  wasn’t what he was expecting.

“So, like, the pointy top hat and everything? And a broom?” Yoongi cackled. “Were you seriously just doing all of this to scare me away? Bullshitting me?”

You snap your fingers, and suddenly Yoongi is being sat in a chair, a cushy sofa sliding forward to catch him. You smirk in amusement at his expression, and suddenly furniture begins to move in every which way, books flying off of shelves literally, flapping as though they had wings. Lamps flickered on and off, and the fireplace came to life, quite literally.

“Well well well, we’ve got a guest! Thought you were the antisocial type, Miss Y/N.”

“Yoongi, I’d like you to meet my fireplace, Maximus. Maximus, my new soulmate.”

The fireplace roared, flames reaching higher and curling around the cavern of its encampment. “You’re not saying-”

“I did.”

“Y/N, how could you?”

“Why not?” You huff, staring over at Yoongi’s expression. “You can see why I was hesitant, can’t you? Don’t worry, if you want I can make you forget all of this ever happened. I have an elixir for almost everything in the pantry.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that your souls are bonded together!” Maximus reminded you, scowling.

“It was the only way to make sure he couldn’t possibly blab even if he tried!” you argued. “He was persistent and…”

“And what?” Maximus scowled.

“And maybe I wanted a friend, ok? All the others think of me as some sort of freak, and it’s hard having a fireplace as the only thing to talk to,” you said quietly. Your eyes widen at your outburst, and you turn to Yoongi. “I’m sorry. I should be focusing on you. I’m sure this is all a shock to you.”

Yoongi blinked a bit, slowly processing everything. You were a witch. Magic was real. Your fireplace was alive.

You began to panic, hyperventilating, your breathing heavy and voice shaky. With wide eyes, you begin to tremble, tears rolling down your cheek as your mind got the best of you. “You want to forget everything already, don’t you? God, I regret this. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, but I was so selfish and I wanted a friend because I was lonely and God-”

“Y/N, Y/N, shh, calm down,” Yoongi said, gently grasping your upper arms, running his hands up and down as though to soothe you. He gives you a warm smile, genuine and comforting, and little by little your breathing began to ease. “It’s ok. Cool it. I understand. I don’t regret finding out, and I’m more than interested to be your friends, magic and all. It’s a bit much to process, but I can tell you upfront that it doesn’t change how I feel. No sweat!”

You wipe away at the hot tears that had rolled down your cheeks, cracking a soft smile. “So you’re ok with this? Me, being magic? Witches and all this stuff? You don’t think it’s weird? You still want to be my friend?”

Yoongi laughed at that, feeling elated, as though it were the start of a new beginning. It felt like the first few seconds when you get strapped into a ride, about to begin. “Everyone’s varying levels of weird; you just have to find someone who’s compatible.”

You laugh at that, your tense shoulders beginning to visibly ease.

“So, tell me more about this magic thing.”

-

It was the beginning of your budding friendship with Yoongi, and he found himself more enamored and fascinated than he could’ve believed. It was a whole new world to discover, one hidden beneath everyone’s nose.

You and Yoongi had found yourselves in the woods, a frequent place for you and he to have your discussions. You weren’t so comfortable with hanging out with him in public just yet, unused to stares and curious glances, people wanting to know more about you beyond the vague facts. Rumors would spread, ones far more tangible than the others, and all would pertain to Yoongi. Relationship? Blackmail? Family? You weren’t prepared for the sort of rumors everyone else was usually talking about.

Yoongi didn’t mind. He was patient. It was alright if he couldn’t take you to the sock hops he frequented. Though, he was curious if you knew how to work a jukebox. He only wanted you to feel more comfortable around him, and if that meant alone, then so be it.

You were reading from a dusty textbook, which Yoongi would soon come to discover was a book of spells. It was in a language he couldn’t decipher, though the pictures could show what one was trying to accomplish. It had many things from curses, jinxes, and potions. He supposed he would study rigorously too if it pertained to magic. What was better, learning to hold fire in one’s palm, or memorize the digits of pi?

Yoongi’s head nestled in your lap, the first time the two of you had even attempted to put some physical intimacy in your relationship. Yoongi had questioned if it was alright, and though you were nervous, you accepted.

So far, what Yoongi had learned about you wasn’t beyond comprehension. Your anxiety could run from subtle to severe at times, and you weren’t very self-assured. It mainly pertained to the fact that you had no friends, no one to really talk to or engage with regularly. Yoongi wondered if your friendship together would let you grow and become less socially awkward, perhaps letting you get more confidence.

“So how come witches and wizards don’t just take over the world? Or come out of hiding? It must be exhausting having to hide your true self on a day to day basis.”

“It’s easier to stay in hiding so that both races can peacefully coexist. Last time our kind tried to reveal themselves was the Salem Witch Trials, and we know how that went. None of the actual witches were caught, but it did erupt havoc and destroy hundreds of lives. It wouldn’t have happened if the witches in question were more careful. Besides, humans have gotten so far with their technology that it would completely detonate or destroy both races, what with their atom bombs and such. It’s a lot less goopy to let both coexist, especially considering the fact that we’re pretty integrated and many of us control things from behind the scenes. Not everything has to be solved with violence.”

“Besides that,” you continued, “there’s a bit of a stigma about your people. We try to avoid mingling with you at all costs. Wizardkind has some sort of belief that humans are dangerous in their own right, simply spreading hatred and destroying everything in their wake. Besides that, they’d get greedy of the wizards’ power, and seek it for themselves. I do agree with that bit to a degree, but I don’t think they’re as evil as perceived. My parents told me that there’s good and bad to everything, which I think is right. You spread hatred, but there’s some of you that spread love. I think those few are worth saving the group for.”

“Seems like the opposite of the ‘one bad apple ruins the bunch’ phrase, hm?” Yoongi hummed.

You shrugged. “You’re one of the good apples. I wouldn’t want to punish you for your group’s actions.”

“You have a point there, I suppose,” Yoongi agreed. Don’t judge the group by the person, or the person by the group. “

"A lot of bloodsheds could’ve been prevented if people listened to those wise words,” you muse whimsically.

“So how much is it that you know?”

“The basics, I suppose. And then some. I guess you’d have to specify,” you say, playing with the fabric of your skirt. “There are different kinds of magic to specify in, you know. Some specify in potions, others in charms. There’s light magic and dark magic, and while neither is necessarily evil, one is far more dangerous than the other. And of course, there are varying degrees of skill and such.”

“So what are you best at, per se?” Yoongi inquired. “I see you more so as a jack of all trades, honestly.”

You smile softly at that. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You mull over it for a moment. “It’s true, anyone can learn any particular skill, so long as they’ve got the magic running through their veins. Each family specializes in something. But there’s a kind of talent that goes along with it that’s necessary for one to excel. Sort of like how someone can be great at the piano and be only subpar at drawing, no matter how much they practice.”

“So what’s your talent?”

You press your lips together in a firm line. “I still have yet to really find that out. I’m young, so I’ve got a long way to go. My family specialized in the dark arts in particular.”

Yoongi sits up at that. “You mean your family was of dark wizards?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that. There is a stigma around wizards like us, but we aren’t evil. I mean, they weren’t,” you correct yourself. “It’s more dangerous though and looked down upon. Most wizards don’t dare to even venture into it.”

“What does it consist of?” Yoongi questioned. “Occult sort of things?”

“Somewhat,” you shrug. “It can vary. Curses and hexes, some jinxes. Some of it is darker, though. Like raising people from the dead or speaking to them. There are some spells to make someone go insane, or control them.”

“Have your parents taught you any of it? Or do you just know some from the book.”

You purse your lips. “I don’t really touch that sort of thing. We’ve got a small shelf in our library of those, but I try to avoid it.”

“How come? It’s sort of part of your heritage.”

“Exactly,” you sigh, “I mean… it reminds me of my parents.”

Yoongi’s face softens at that. “Oh… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

You shake your head, the sorrowful expression on your face being wiped off with a smile. “No, it’s fine. I told you I’d answer any questions you have, and I meant it. We’re friends, right? Friends tell each other these sorts of things.”

Yoongi nods stiffly at that. “Yeah. I just didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “What about you? We’ve spent too much time talking about me. I want to know about your family.”

“There’s not much to know. We aren’t nearly as interesting as you guys,” Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve got a younger brother named Yohan, and he’s in… what is it, fourth, fifth grade? Yeah. He’s nine.”

“That’s sweet,” you smile softly. “I always wanted a younger sibling.”

“Don’t bother, they’re annoying as hell,” Yoongi scoffed. “Anyways, my dad has some office job downtown. Involves a lot of paperwork and seems boring as hell. Something to do with a lot of numbers. My mom’s the most interesting, being a cancer survivor and all.”

Your eyes light up at that. “You’re kidding!”

“No, she is. She won’t let me forget it, too. Every time I forget to clean my room or complain she uses it against me,” Yoongi laughs. “Though I suppose she has the right to.”

“I would too, if I were her,” you tell him honestly. “I’m glad she’s better now, though.”

“So am I,” Yoongi says. “What about your parents? When they were alive, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Your expression softens at that, no longer as bright. “They were… odd. I know that sounds weird coming from me. My mom was very stern and strict, having to teach me with discipline. She was a bit judgemental in my opinion, from what I remember, that is. My father was a lot more light-hearted, a bit more on the whimsical side. My father would make sure my mother wasn’t always nagging and loosened up, and my mother made sure my father stayed grounded on Earth.”

“How did they pass?” Yoongi questions.

“Automobile accident,” you tell him. “Flip-top was old and unreliable, and my father was never one for human inventions. It’s surprising it didn’t happen earlier.”

Yoongi’s brows furrow. “I’m sure the papers would’ve reported that. No one else knows they’re gone.”

You tense up at that but shrug your shoulders. “Probably because they never left the house, anyway. The accident happened in another town anyway, so it wouldn’t be reported here. Not that these nuclear families would care.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to apologize, afraid that he had offended you, but you cut him off. “I apologize- that was crass,” you say quickly. “I know I sound bitter, but it’s just because I’ve been so distant from the rest of you. Regular people… it’s discouraged from mingling with them any further than necessary, anything more than just blending in. My parents were adamant on that rule, and I had been sheltered so long that I grew to somewhat resent all of the others. Sure, they weren’t exactly outreaching by any means, but I’m sure being aloof wasn’t the best option. But I’m learning with you now, and I’m glad to do so.”

Yoongi was oddly touched by your words, and he shifts on the grass, sitting closer next to you to bump his shoulder against your own. “I’m glad to be friends with you too,” he says, wondering if it were too soon for him to admit that during this budding friendship.

You smiled, beaming at him, and soon his chin was resting on your shoulder as the two of you studied the pages of your textbook together.

-

“So, you’ve gotten pretty close to Yoongi, huh?”

You had been cornered in the middle of the hallway before your locker, your bright purple dress of the day making you easy to find. You automatically flinch at the sound of the locker slamming shut, Eunwoo’s perfectly manicured hand splayed across the surface.

Your lungs felt tight, anxiety running high. You were a very anxious person, truth be told, though you weren’t sure how much of that as you or just the fact that you were a preteen. Nevertheless, your heartbeat thundered in your ears, and you yearned for any way out. You were one to buckle under pressure or scamper away, anything to avoid confrontation. This wasn’t an exception.

You couldn’t say that you didn’t see this coming, though. Only a week after befriending and hanging out with Yoongi, and you were being harassed. In a vicious cage known as middle school, popularity was everything, so it made sense that two alpha girls like Eunwoo’s and Nayoung were here to put you in your proper place as prey.

Yoongi was one of the quieter guys who didn’t seem that popular, yet every girl and guy liked. Sure, he wasn’t super outgoing and outstanding, but perhaps it was his broody and casual demeanor- more accurately his looks- that just had prepubescent teens swooning left and right.

Eunwoo and Nayoung, the latter having a thing for him since elementary school since he kissed Seungyeon on the monkey bars, were no exception.

“Yes,” you squeaked, hugging your books to your chest tightly. You were suddenly very self-conscious, staring down at your muddy, worn boots, soiled from the rain that morning. Your dress was barely being held together by safety pins, and you looked like you were a five year old attempting to play dress up.

Eunwoo towered over you, glaring down at you as Nayoung supported her at the back. She pokes the center of your chest, jabbing it roughly, as though daring you to meet her eye. You didn’t. “What makes you so special, huh? You’re just some nerd whose probs a secret Red. Regular commie who won’t even make it anywhere in life.”

“Why don’t you quit the bit. Yoongi shouldn’t have dirt like you rubbing onto his name,” Nayoung snickered. “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ at this rate. I’d figure someone like you wouldn’t be so fast, but I guess it’s the only way for you to get anyone to like you. Slut.”

You feel tears spring up in your eyes, and you try to choke them down. Your throat is tight, constricting around the lump as you do your best not to bawl. You wish to scream that you’re not sleeping with Yoongi, that you just wanted to be a friend, but you had to contain yourself. Whenever your emotions got the best of you, your magic tended to burst out. You struggled already to contain it.

“Why don’t you squares leave her alone,” someone pipes up. The three of you look up to Yoongi, walking up to you only to sling an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to his body in a protective manner. “You’re just bugging her because you got clutched last Friday- everyone knows. Everyone also thinks that you’re not destined to be anything more than paper shakers in the future, so why don’t you do yourself a favor and split.”

Eunwoo and Nayoung’s faces turned bright red, both wishing to say something. True enough, both did split, stomping away. Yoongi turned to you, beaming. His expression morphs into worry, however, and he wipes away some of the tears you didn’t realize had slid down your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry, I’ve got this. I might not hold up well during a physical fight, but I’ve gotten pretty good at insulting people. One of the benefits of having a sibling,” he chuckled. “You doing ok?”

You nodded, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves. “Yeah. You didn’t have to do that, though. I don’t want to burden you.”

Yoongi scoffed at that. “Nonsense. What’re friends for?”

He walked you to your classroom, and you were unable to conceal your smile the entire way. Yoongi was a true friend, through and through, it seemed.

-

“C'mon, I trust you!” Yoongi insisted. “It’ll be fine. You need someone to practice on anyway.”

“I’m not going to doom my best friend to the life of a toad!” you scowl back, crossing your arms. “It’s not even my family’s specialty- it isn’t in my blood.”

“You have yet to even tell me what said specialty is,” Yoongi huffed.

The two of you were fourteen now, two years into the friendship. It was the summer before high school, both of you more than ready to move onto the next stage of adolescence. Throughout the two years, you and Yoongi had bonded, becoming attached to the hip practically. Many thought the two of you were going steady, but without a pin to prove it, they remained rumors.

The two of you let them stay rumors, merely enjoying each other’s company. Little did they know that you and Yoongi were spending days together practicing spells and such.

Most of the time it was you practicing your spells with him, Yoongi acting as both a guinea pig and support system. Your adolescent anxiety had become a bit less prominent, your confidence slowly building with Yoongi’s constant boosts. Other times Yoongi would drag you out dancing, putting in three plays of Elvis Presley’s Don’t Be Cruel. Yoongi would always laugh and spin you around on these days, making you scream in delight when he’d dip you in surprise. You got to see a side of Yoongi that wasn’t stoic and cool, instead releasing a goofball who deeply cared for his loved ones. And in turn, he gave you confidence and moral support.

This was one of the days where Yoongi was pushing your boundaries, encouraging you to do one of the more difficult spells of transfiguration- the act of transforming one thing into another. In this case, he wanted to make you into a toad.

The two of you had already done many things magic-related together. From making potions and singing his eyebrows to extreme levitation spells where Yoongi got stuck on the ceiling for a day, and you had to float pieces of cereal and such up to him while he flew from wall to wall in attempts to get the spell to wear down quicker.

“No! What if I can’t turn you back?”

“I believe in you! You just let your anxiety get the best of you sometimes and panic. It doesn’t have to be a toad… Make it a cat or something. You like cats, right?”

“Yoongi, you’re allergic to cats.”

“I doubt I’ll be allergic to myself,” Yoongi huffed. “Look, remember how when we first started doing this you weren’t able to do so much as ignite a flame? Now you’re able to do love potions and levitation spells! You’ve improved so much, and practice makes perfect. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t believe you could do it.”

You frowned, taming your frizzy hair out of nervousness, mulling it over. “I don’t know…”

Yoongi, however, could tell you were giving in. You were weak to the knees when it came to him, and he knew it. He let out a triumphant, gummy grin, knowing he was wearing you down. “It’s the next chapter of your textbook, we can’t just skip. Y/N, imagine how soft my ears will be. You know you’ll want to pet me.”

You grimaced. “Don’t say it like that!”

“You’re right, you want to pet me even when I’m in human form,” Yoongi joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh my god, I’ll do it if you just shut up, pervert!” you exclaimed, your face turning bright red. You put on your goggles, strapping them over your face.

Yoongi had asked you once why you always put them on since they weren’t needed. You told him that it was an old habit your father did when he did magic, and the goggles were his last gift to you before your parents’ untimely demise.

Neither of you tried to dwell on that, though, knowing the past wasn’t the best thing to be stuck in. Especially considering how dark yours tended to be. Yoongi could peel back the layers if he wanted, and though he knew there was more you were possibly hiding, he didn’t pry. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.

Yoongi laughed heartily at that, watching you with delight. He’d never admit this to you, but he always found you absolutely enchanting when you did magic. Your eyes seemed to glow from within, the tips of your fingers turning gold as it flowed through you. The ends of your hair would float above your hair, flickering like a flame. With a sweep of your arms and uttering of a language that Yoongi failed to comprehend, Yoongi was suddenly thrust with a beam of dark purple.

He felt his limbs and body shrink, his clothes falling around him on the floor, and your small frame got unusually bigger… and bigger… and bigger. It wasn’t until he was on all fours and staring up at you that he realized the transformation was complete.

He was a jet black cat.

You, on the other hand, had squeezed your eyes shut when you did the spell, only now opening your eyes to spare a peek at your creation. You immediately let out squeals of awe at the furry creature before you, scooping Cat-Yoongi into your arms and petting him, scratching behind his ears as he purred.

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing!” you cooed. “I’m tempted to keep you this way so that I won’t have to listen to your yapping anymore.”

Cat-Yoongi hissed at that, and you laughed, scratching the bottom of his chin as you put him down. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I’m sure I’d be weird for even witch standards if my best friend was a cat.”

“You did well on this one, Miss Y/N,” Maximus complimented, his flames flickering. “Though you need to remember to keep your eyes open. You can’t flinch and be scared of your own spells- what if you aimed wrong and hit someone else when performing a spell?”

“I won’t have to worry about that for a bit. The self-defense and attacking spells aren’t for another twenty chapters or so,” you say.

“True, but at the rate, you’re moving it’ll be within only a few months,” Maximus responded. “Now, try to keep your eyes open while you transform him back.”

“Do I have to?” you pondered, Cat-Yoongi brushing between your legs affectionately. “Wait a minute- you better not be looking under my skirt, you heathen!”

Maximus chuckled, your fireplace finding your accusation amusing. “All the more reason to transform him back.”

“Fine,” you huffed, stepping back. Cat-Yoongi stood back at the spot he was at previously, cocking his head to the side to peer at you with those big round eyes of his. You gushed inside, knowing all too well you’d be performing this spell later on. You do the steps in reverse, and the moment your encantation leaves your lips the beam hits Yoongi square in the chest, and he’s transformed back into his human form.

Naked.

“Gah! Put some clothes on!” You yank your goggles back over your head, covering your eyes as you turn to give him privacy.

“Don’t look! Don’t look!” Yoongi cried, hastily putting on his clothes in embarrassment.

Your fireplace only cackled wickedly at the scene that played out before him, the two of you embarrassed beyond belief.

-

You’re fifteen when you tell Yoongi that you love him.

You didn’t know why you did it. The two of you had been best friends for about three years now- things were going good.

Why’d you screw it up like this?

The truth was that you had a crush on Yoongi. A big fat crush that seemed to loom over you whenever you were in his presence. You had these feelings since forever, it seemed. You always thought he was cute- one of the reasons you went out of your way to save him when he was being taunted by bullies. Well, that and the goodness of your heart, you supposed.

Figures that it’s the guy you were most attracted to in your prepubescent phase that you end up befriending.

So when the two of you became friends, you worked to suppress the feelings. He was your only friend- you didn’t want to screw it up as you did everything else. Besides, boys were gross, you knew that. You were only distracted by his looks, and once you got to know all the disgusting details that came with friendship, surely the feelings would die down.

Right?

And yes, you learned many disgusting details. Yoongi was an idiot in many things, as it turned out. He’d leave his underwear around on the floor and give his little brother wet willies whenever he’d bug the two of you about dating, singing that kissing song until Yoongi popped his finger in his ear.

But despite the repulsive side to your best friend, you fell more. He was charming when he was allowed to be, soft and shy at times, but always honest and blunt. He saw things for more than what they appeared to be, despite what everyone else thought.

No matter, you thought. The two of you were going through puberty- no doubt he’d get ugly. You’d stay best friends with him of course, but surely your feelings for him were shallow and purely based on appearance. He’d become greasy-faced and lanky, being too tall and too shiny.

But no- God had decided to torture you. Instead of puberty hitting him like a bus, Yoongi eased into a handsome state. His jawline became sharper, shoulders became broader, and he sprouted like a weed, though not too tall for you to barely be able to make out his face in the clouds. He seemed to suit the present trends, wearing leather jackets and finally doing his hair instead of the mussed updo he adorned. You looked back on the photos of the two of you on your mantelpiece, wondering how you possibly found that little barnacle attractive when you were a preteen, at least in comparison to how he looked now.

You had to face the facts: you were undeniably, irrevocably, and totally in love with your best friend Min Yoongi.

Yet here you were, years of keeping your feelings at bay, only to blurt them out suddenly.

The two of you were watching an  _I Love Lucy_ rerun at his house since your own lacked a television. His family was asleep, and you spent so much time at each other’s houses that none of them suspected much. If you two were to date, wouldn’t you have done it already?

You were both planning a sleepover for the night. The grease was out of Yoongi’s hair, and the two of you were wearing the matching cat pajamas you had bought shortly after the cat incident- a spell you’d use frequently. He knew it was the easiest way for you to cheer up when you were having a bad day, and there was nothing better than having Cat-Yoongi purring in your lap, sleeping as your sorrows melted away.

You and Yoongi were laughing at the part where Lucy got drunk on national television. He was shaking, his eyes squinting and gummy smile showing. You admired his happy look, noticing how he positively glowed in the light of the twelve-inch screen.

Which brought you to this moment.

“I love you.”

Yoongi froze, looking up at you. “What?”

Your face flushed, and you were suddenly very self-conscious of the angel. He could probably see your double chin from this angle. You scoot away, letting his head fall to the cushions as you stammer to correct yourself. “A-As a best friend of course. Not anything weird l-like being  _in_  love with you or anything.”

“Oh… right.”

“I-I don’t know why I said that. I made you uncomfortable, I’m sure. I blurted it out without thinking what it sounded like, and I’m really so-”

“I love you, too.”

You freeze at that, looking up at him. His eyes have met yours, and he was sitting up now. There was a silence between the two of you, only filled with the noise from the TV.

“What?” you say, your voice a hushed whisper.

“I love you, too,” he repeats, just as clear as before.

You light up, but your heart sinks again. He meant as a friend, of course. It was only to make you feel better.

“Do you mean that?” you question, voice soft.

“Of course I do. What would I do without you?” He slings an arm over your shoulders and hugs you to his body, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re friends, after all.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach, but your nerves have eased along with the embarrassment. You instead melt into his embrace, trying to seem happy still. “Yeah, best friends.”

-

The two of you are sixteen when the prospect of a relationship finally comes up.

Yoongi had thought about it from time to time, of course. The two of you were in your sophomore year of high school, and while the two of you had grown a bit from your prepubescent ways, you were both close.

Yoongi ventured more to the greaser side, adorning leather jackets and checking out sock hops regularly. His new rag top was swinging, the car souped up due to some of your fancy spells. The cherry red color did well to attract girls to bring to the passion pit, the two of them usually necking and doing the ol’ back seat bingo at the drive-in movies.

You, on the other hand, had become a bit more approachable. A bigger school meant bigger crowds, some more accepting at that. Perhaps it helped when Yoongi got you new threads before the start of high school, the two of you spending nights together sewing and forming clothes that’d fit you properly. You still wore your oversized goggles and boots, but with your favorite well-fitting pale, candle-like yellow dress that made your skin glow and the curves you developed, you were becoming a babe yourself. Gone was the naive girl who wouldn’t look up from her own feet, but rather a developing woman who was becoming confident in her own abilities.

You and Yoongi were still well known best friends, despite being on the opposite sides. However, you had your own identities now. You were no longer known as the girl who hung at Yoongi’s side, and he wasn’t known as the one who took pity on the freak.

You were becoming yourselves.

However, neither of you were quite ready to admit your true feelings for one another- until a certain date came along.

Yoongi was hanging with the guys, helping them fix up their cars. All of them thought he was some sort of mechanical genius, but little did they know that there wasn’t anything that your magic could do. That with melted butterfly wings and evaporated poison ivy (one of the smelliest potions Yoongi would come to find out).

He was helping Hoseok with his cruiser at the moment, Taehyung and Jimin out getting some food while the two of them worked on the rocket at hand. Hoseok’s engine appeared to be having difficulty, and Yoongi could only do his best with what little information he actually did know. Couldn’t risk his reputation, after all.

“Hey, Yoongs, I was sort of wanting to talk to you about something. It involves Y/N.”

Yoongi froze, tense beneath the car. He scooted out, wiping some of the grease on his hands onto his white shirt. He had to stay composed. Worst case scenario, Hoseok had discovered what you actually were. Even that wouldn’t be so bad, though. Out of all the hot rods that Yoongi hung out with, Hoseok seemed to be the least judgmental of you. Even back in the day, when you were an awkward preteen mess, Hoseok never spoke ill of you the way Taehyung or Jimin did, the teases.

“What about her?”

“Well, you two are friends right?” Hoseok appeared to be a bit cautious with his wording, as though afraid he’d set Yoongi off.

Yoongi only wore a blank expression. “Yeah, I’d say so. Best friends in fact.”

“Yeah… So, are you like, anything more with her?” Hoseok wondered.

Yoongi’ s heart stopped once he realized what Hoseok was trying to say. “You like Y/N?”

“Well, I mean yeah. I’m not, like, crazy for her or anything. I just think she’s cute, y'know?” Hoseok explained. “But I wanted to ask you first because I wasn’t sure whether or not you pinned her or anything. It wouldn’t be cool to go after another guy’s girl.”

“Y/N isn’t my girl,” Yoongi clarified.

“So you’d be cool with me asking her out this weekend?” Hoseok asked, brightening up.

Yoongi gritted his teeth, anger swelling in his chest. “Yeah, sure dude. Whatever. Just don’t fake out or anything. I don’t want you to hurt her.”

“You guys are close, huh?” Hoseok chuckled. “Didn’t you call her your soulmate or something once?”

“Platonically speaking, I guess,” Yoongi murmured. “We just get each other.”

“I figured. You two were close since, what, middle school? I didn’t think much of her back then, admittedly, but you did. It’s like one day the two of you were strangers and the next you were all goo goo eyes. I thought you were whipped- hell, we all did. Thought you had her jacketed and everything. We were wrong, obviously, but even I have to admit she’s a regular babe now.”

“So you like her because she’s attractive now?” Yoongi could hear the underlying malice in his tone, but he couldn’t take it back even if he tried.

Hoseok put his hands up in false surrender. “Woah, dude, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all as well. It’s kinda hard to talk to her though. She’s shy around everyone else but you, y'know. I wouldn’t mind getting to know her well. Besides, if she really wanted someone who was there just for her personality, you two would’ve hit it off by now.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry for snapping.” What was wrong with him today? Something about you and Hoseok together seemed off to him. He didn’t like the sound of it.

Hoseok clapped him on the back, grinning brightly. “Don’t worry, Yoongs. Maybe we can double date someday or something. Didn’t you lay one on Roa just two weeks ago? From what I heard she’s dying to again. We could all see some flick together or something.”

“I don’t know, maybe. I’ll think about it,” Yoongi grumbled bitterly.

He was a mess.

-

You paced before Maximus, the fireplace crackling with each step you took. You fidgeted with your dress, smoothing wrinkles, playing with the hem.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so nervous. It’s just a date,” Maximus said. “Didn’t you say Hoseok as a nice guy?”

“I know, I know. He is! I just…” You didn’t know how to end the sentence.

“You wish it was Yoongi?”

“God, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” you whine, burying your face in your hands. “Here I am, pining over my best friend, all while some other guy is on his way to pick me up. I’d figure I’d be over it within four years.”

“That’s love, dear,” Maximus hummed. “Some boys are just a bit more hesitant than others.”

“Maybe this date is for the best,” you pondered aloud. “It could help me move on, y'know? Friends shouldn’t see each other as more than friends. It ruins the means of friendship and is irreversible.”

“Do you really want to get over him, though?”

“I don’t know!” you wail, throwing your hands up in the air. “I told Yoongi about the date, and he just said 'Congrats’. What does that mean?”

“Congratulations, I assume.”

You bit your lip nervously. “Maybe I should call Hoseok and cancel the date. This is a bad idea-”

It was at that moment that your doorbell rang, and you jumped up, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Maximus questioned.

“Oh, right. Wish me luck,” you said, grabbing your purse before heading to the door. You weren’t sure if it was butterflies or dread filling your stomach.

-

You and Hoseok were at the sock hop, the two of you spinning around each other, your dress swishing around your legs. You weren’t the best dancer, admittedly, but you came to find out that Hoseok could more than makeup for it. One moment you were grasping onto his leather jacket, stiff as a board, and the next moment your legs were in the air and your hands in his greased hair, doing your best to keep up with the music that was blaring throughout.

“See? You’re not that bad!” Hoseok grinned, hands clasped in yours as you twisted your hips from side to side.

“Easy for you to say! You’re barely breaking a sweat. I feel like I’ll collapse any second!” you wheeze, earning a hearty laugh from Hoseok.

You expected to be awkward and stiff with Hoseok. Sure, you were less socially inept now than you were back in the day, but typically you were more on the introvert side with anyone other than Yoongi. Hoseok’ s extroversion, however, seemed to draw out your looser side, one that you kept with Yoongi more often than not. Hoseok was the exact opposite of you in every way, yet you didn’t seem to mind. Before long you actually began to enjoy yourself.

“You’re fine,” Hoseok laughed, giving you a twirl as you spun back into his arms. “You’re a natural, trust me.”

“You try it in heels,” you huff, rolling your eyes.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go out for a drive then, Granny, since you’re so beat,” he said jokingly.

“Oh thank God!” You fell into his arms in mock exasperation, and before long he was taking you in his cruiser. You were sipping on a milkshake, your hair blowing in the wind until the two of you stopped at the destination. It was a small ledge overlooking a lake, the moonlight shining above it.

“Are we in Lovers Lane?” you questioned, looking around at the other cars, all with other teenagers making out.

“Er- Yeah. I hope you don’t mind,” Hoseok said sheepishly.

“No, it’s cool. I guess it’s to be expected for a date,” you nodded, trying to remain calm despite the fact that your heart was thundering in your chest. You didn’t feel threatened by Hoseok. After all, you could whip out a smell that would do anything from fill his mouth with maggots to make him fall in love with a nearby tree. Then why were you so nervous?

Hoseok yawned, stretching his arms over his head to casually wrap one around your shoulders. He wiggled his brows at you, the two of you sharing a grin. “Smooth,” you say, chuckling.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?” Hoseok questioned. “It’s alright if you say no, I understand.”

“Um… Sure.”

You weren’t sure what you expected. Maybe you thought he’d shove his tongue down your throat and start groping you. That’s what you braced yourself for, at least.

He was surprisingly gentle, his lips pressing against yours with hesitancy, moving to give you time to get used to it. He moved in a way that told you he had the experience, the small breaks in between making out short lived. It wasn’t long until you kissed him back, squeezing your eyes shut as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth.

One of his hands came up to grope your chest, and you didn’t hate the sensation. Despite Hoseok’s body on yours, however, you could only think of someone else.

You broke free, taking a deep breath. “I can’t.”

Hoseok stopped, stilling for a moment before returning to his seat, respecting your boundaries. “Did I do something?”

“No, you’ve done nothing. You’ve been perfect- an absolute gentleman. I really enjoyed my time with you, trust me. It’s just that I…”

There was a pause between the two of you, silence hanging in the air.

“You love Yoongi,” Hoseok finished for you.

You took in a deep breath. “Yeah,” you admitted quietly.

Hoseok was silent for a moment. “I understand. You don’t have to feel bad or anything. It’s not your fault, y'know? Feelings are feelings. They aren’t something you can really control. You can control reactions but not feelings, at least that’s what I understand.”

“I’m sorry if I led you on,” you apologized. “If it were any other time, I could see myself falling for you.”

“How come you agreed to the date then?” He didn’t seem angry, just curious.

You sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe to get over him? Unrequited love is still love… It makes you do crazy things.”

There were a few more seconds of silence before Hoseok started abruptly laughing. Tears were in his eyes, and he clutched his stomach. You fumed, looking to him. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re just so oblivious! Both of you!” Hoseok exclaimed. “Yoongi likes you, too. He’s crazy about you. He looked like he wanted to kill me when I asked him if it was OK to ask you out. I just figured if he wouldn’t make a move then I would- but this? This takes the cake!”

You froze at that, frosted but confused. “Yoongi likes me?”

“That’s an understatement.”

You blinked in surprise. “I… I had no clue. I thought I was just a friend to him.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he had the same doubts about your feelings towards him. I won’t tell him, but I suggest you do,” Hoseok smiled, his face warm. “After all, the night’s still young, and so are we. Time is the one thing that you can’t get back.”

You smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Hoseok.”

“Thanks for letting me cup a feel.”

-

The last thing Yoongi had expected for you to do after your date was climb through his window.

He had been beating himself up all day for letting Hoseok ask you out, imagining the two of you doing god knows what. Why was he such a coward?

Yoongi liked you, yes, but his ego was too sensitive to handle the possibility of rejection. Especially at the prospect of losing his best friend.

He still thinks back on the day you told him you loved him. He had been so elated, your confession sounding so real until you corrected to yourself. You loved him as a friend. That’s all he’d ever be to you.

So he kept it at that.

Still, it was surprising when you, a girl once so filled with anxiety she made him her soulmate to ensure he’d be silent about her secret, was the one who finally spoke up about the romantic tension between the two.

“Yoongi?”

The hoarse whisper woke him, and he rolled over, seeing you sitting on the windowsill, your finger lit like a candle to show a light. Your face was barely illuminated, and you stared at him through the dark.

The two of you had snuck in through each other’s windows before. It was riskier for Yoongi, though, since he had parents and a little brother. It was easier for you because you could use levitation instead of climbing up vines similar to the ones that grow along the side of your house.

“Hey,” he whispered back, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, trying to wake himself from his slumber-deprived state. “What’s up? How was your… date with Hoseok.”

“It was fine, I guess. I had a good time. It’s over now,” you said quietly.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping then? I’m sure he wore you out,” Yoongi grumbled, trying to contain the bitterness in his voice.

Oddly enough, you revealed a small smile. “Sorry I just… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Wanna sleep next to me then?” Another common occurrence between you two.

“I can’t. I mean, wait… No. It’s not that,” you said, sucking in a breath as you tried to find the right words. “I want to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Yoongi was fully awake now. “About what?”

“Us.”

The word hung in the air for a moment, perspiring between the two of you as he soaked it in.

You were the first to break the silence. “Yoongi, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Four years, to be exact. You’re my best friend, through and through, and our souls are bonded and such. But I know this doesn’t have anything to do with that… What I feel for you isn’t caused by any spell or potion or whatnot. I know I’m rambling but my point is that I can’t see you as just a friend- or even a best friend for that matter. I’ve always seen you as more.”

“I… I didn’t know that.” God, Yoongi was stupid. He had received confessions before, but something made his lungs squeeze with yours.

“I tried to go out with Hoseok. I tried to place my feelings for you onto him- yet when he kissed me I could only see you. I realized then that these feelings won’t just fade. But what am I supposed to do then? Just… wait?

"You’re going to leave for college in two years, and I’m going to leave for official witching school and whatnot around the same time. Our souls will be bonded, but even I know we only have a limited amount of time left before we’ll have to separate- temporary or permanent. And I got to thinking why we never tried anything…” You let in a deep breath, as though trying to calm yourself. “I feel like a kid again, but I’ve been having thoughts of why we never even tried or discussed it. Stuff like you thinking I was ugly or weird and such and such… Long story short… Why haven’t we tried… us?”

Yoongi thought about it for a moment and answered as honestly as he could. “I guess because I was scared.”

“Scared?” you repeated, furrowing your brows. “Of me? Because I’m a witch?”

“No, not that,” Yoongi clarified, slipping out of bed to step towards the window in front of you. He runs his hands through his messed up hair, a move that has your heart skip a beat. “Of us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. You’re my soulmate, literally. But what if you didn’t like me back? What if we tried and it didn’t work out? I didn’t want to ruin everything we had built up. As you stated we only have two years left really, and then it’s long distance. We’ll still be bound, but how would that be if things were broken between us?”

“Yeah, you’re right with those concerns,” you nodded. “So… You’ve thought about it? Us being more than friends?”

“A lot,” Yoongi admits. “More than I’d care to admit.”

You chuckle a bit at that. “Me too.”

You’re silent for a few more moments before Yoongi speaks up. “So… we like each other or at least clarified it. Now what?”

You shrug at that. “That’s up to us, I suppose. We can leave things as we are or… we can take a chance.”

Your eyes meet, and Yoongi swallows hard. “Do you want to?”

“I really do. I don’t think I’ve wanted anything more,” you whisper quietly. “And you?”

“Same,” he says softly. “I’ve wanted it for a long time.”

He hadn’t realized it, but the two of you had been moving closer and closer together, leaning in until your lips were mere centimeters apart. He could feel your soft breath, uneven.

Your unmatched hand reached for his own, shakily linking your fingers with his. “Yoongi?” you whisper, your voice faint as you stare into his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

Your lips attach at that point, softly brushing up against each other before slotting into place, feathery light and gentle. Yoongi cups your face, fingers threading through your hair as he gives in. The light is out, the two of you kissing in the dark, the moonlight acting as your sole witness.

You pull back, your eyes glistening with tears, tiny droplets caught in your lashes. Yoongi gives you an expression of worry. “Was that ok? Did I go too far?”

“No, I just,” you wipe away the tear, giving a shaky smile. “I’m just really happy to be here with you right now, y'know? I’m so, so happy.”

“So you have to go crying on me?” Yoongi teases, earning a playful slap to the chest from you.

“Shut up and kiss me again, idiot.”

-

You and Yoongi settled into the diner, both of you holding onto the laminated menu’s. Despite his now tough reputation, Yoongi felt as though he was a preteen again. Why was he so nervous? The two of you had been dating for a while now and had been best friends for even longer. There was no reason for him to have a cow over this.

“Are you ok, Yoongi?” you questioned, your expression soft.

“What? Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?” he questioned, trying to compose himself to avoid worrying you.

“You seem to have something on your mind, I suppose,” you mumble. “We don’t have to go out, you know. It’s alright to just hang out. I know you’re going through a rough time, with your Mom’s cancer and all.”

That’s right. Two weeks ago the doctor told them that his mother’s cancer had resurfaced- a devastating blow for all of them. Truthfully Yoongi was struggling to hold himself together through all of it. The guys would lose their shit if they knew Yoongi bawled like a baby in your arms, but all that went through Yoongi’s mind was the last time they had to give treatment to his mother. She had gone through so much pain, becoming frail and weak. The entire family suffered.

Yoongi shook the memory away, instead offering a smile. “No, that’s not what I’m thinking about. Well, I mean I am, but I’m thinking about something else as well.”

“Oh, well talk to me then. Anything to help,” you offered.

You really had been there for him through this. From a shoulder to cry on to a potion here and there to help with sleep. You were a godsend.

“Well, I was imagining this in a more romantic way, I suppose. Let’s wait until the waiter comes.”

You nodded, the waiter soon coming along to get your order. It was after the waiter dropped off the cherry cokes and cheeseburgers that you stared at Yoongi expectantly. “So? What is it?”

Yoongi sucked in a harsh breath. It didn’t matter how much grease he had in his hair, how fast his car was, or how many leather jackets he wore- he was weak to the knees when it came to you.

He dug out a small pin from his pocket. “I figured since we were going steady, I’d finally get around to giving you this.”

Your eyes widened with delight. “Your class pin?”

It was a big step in your relationship, that was for sure. Branded you as his in a sense, showed you were going steady. Official and all that jazz, so to speak. Yoongi nodded, and you squealed, leaning over the table to let him place the pin over your left breast, right above your heart.

You smiled warmly, giving him a peck on the lips before settling in your seat. You reached forward, placing his hands in your own. Yoongi’s face went red, and his eyes did an automatic scan, making sure no one he knew was around to witness. He only got this soft for you.

“No matter what, we’ll go through this together, ok? I’m here for you no matter what,” you told him, your tone sincere.

“No matter what,” he agreed wholeheartedly.

-

The two of you are 18 when you get your letters from college.

_Dear Y/N, of the Mortem clan,_

_You are cordially invited to Magia, Academy for Witches and Wizards,_

_Your semester will start next fall. As it is a boarding institution, housing and food will be provided. We expect you to bring clothing and other necessities that you’ll need for your studies. We’ve devised your schedule based on your skill set and heritage. Below will be the courses for the semester._

_Intro to Familiars_  
Advanced Potions  
Advanced Necromancy  
Standard Defense Spells  
Standard Charms  
Intro to Astronomy and Fortune Telling

_We look forward to seeing you in the new school year._

_Sincerely,  
Magia, Academy for Witches and Wizards_

Yoongi stared down at the letter, analyzing it. He cleared his throat. “So, you’re going, huh?”

“It’s more or less mandatory. You’re accepted if you’ve got magical abilities, regardless of whether or not you applied. They were always going to keep an eye on me because of my clan, anyway.”

“Mortem? That’s not your last name.”

“Yes, but it’s my bloodline. I’ve mentioned before how each family focuses on a single specialty- and that’s the family I come from.”

“What about familiars and necromancy? We’ve never practiced those.”

“Familiars are usually something you dive into once you’re of age. Difficult to handle one when you’re only a teen. It’s essentially a companion- a creature or animal that is by your side to help you with magic. You’re spiritually linked, similar to how you and I are.”

“And the necromancy?”

“Something I’ll supposedly excel at, I suppose. The board of the academy typically knows more than I do,” you shrug. “Now let me see yours.”

It wasn’t anything special, really. Just a letter to let Yoongi know he was accepted at the nearby college. Nevertheless, he handed you the letter, letting you analyze it. He tried to imagine you going to a normal college, learning normal topics. Perhaps the two of you would share a dorm together. Perhaps not. No matter how hard he tried to picture it, he knew you wouldn’t be at place in the human setting.

“I’m really proud of you, Yoongi. It’s a really good college- plus you’ll be close to your mom. You worked hard for this. I didn’t have to work for mine, but you really put yourself into this,” you say, handing back the letter. “I know you’ll do great things.”

“Don’t talk as though we’ll be separated. I’m not sure if they’ll let me visit witching school or whatever, but I’m sure you’ll be able to drop by once in a while. Though  mine isn’t nearly as impressive, I’m sure.”

“We’re bonded- we couldn’t really even separate even if we tried,” you hum softly.

Yoongi’s quiet for a moment. He knew what you said was true, but the thought of you two being thousands of miles apart filled him with a sensation of melancholy. “Promise you’ll send a letter every day? Or call?”

“I’ll be sure to send a link through Maximus- he’ll be coming with me. Not sure if you know but he’s transportable, and the good thing about fire demons is they can help you communicate even through regular fire. I wouldn’t recommend calling through your fireplace, but I’ll give you a list of instructions to call me through a candle or something.”

“God, just when I think that I’ve started to know a thing or two about magic, you surprise me with something else,” Yoongi laughs.

The laughter dies, and your thoughts are tangible, hanging in the air.

“Well, we’ll have to make the most of our summer,” you note softly. “We’ll stay in contact and all, but I know it won’t be the same.”

“You’re not thinking about breaking up, are you?” Yoongi questions.

“No. But I’d understand if you’d want to. We’re young- we’re going to meet new people. You’re very good with people and lord knows girls can’t resist your type. I trust you, but I’d understand if you’d want something a bit more present. There’s a lot I still won’t be able to provide for you from miles away, and I’d understand. I’d love you no matter what and I’d wait for you,” you tell him.

“No way. I don’t want anyone other than you, and you should know that. We can make it work,” he argues.

You shrug dully. “I know. I just… I don’t want to hold you back, y'know? From a normal life just because you’re with me. That kind of lifestyle isn’t really obtainable with me, with how different we are.”

“If I wanted normal I wouldn’t have pestered you years ago, Y/N, you know that. Besides, if anything I’d think I’m holding you back from your true potential as a witch.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you smile. “You’ve brought me out of my shell and much more. None of it would’ve been attainable without you.”

“Well you bring out the potential in me, too,” he replies.

“You’re young, Yoongi. We’re 18- do you really know what you want? Our whole lives are ahead of us- jobs, relationships, everything. Are we really ready for that commitment? To make those big decisions?” You think for a moment, sullen at the prospect of a life you don’t want. “I don’t want to be something you regret.”

“Hey, look at me,” Yoongi says, holding your hands in his and squeezing tightly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that? Who cares if we’re young. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, sure, but I don’t want to go through it without you.”

“Are you sure about that, Yoongi? Forever’s a long time. You might feel differently once I’m away,” you tell him.

“I’ll prove it. We can get married- right now! Go to a chapel and elope before the school year starts.”

You laugh outright at that- a hearty, true one. “Now we’re definitely too young for that.”

“How so? My mom was pregnant with me when we were her age.”

“Are you telling me you plan to knock me up, Yoongs?”

“Eventually, yeah. Maybe once we’re older, though,” he says

You smile, stroking his cheek before kissing him tenderly. “I’m going to miss you, you big idiot,” you tell him, pressing your forehead against his.

“You’re not gone yet,” he reminds you, combing his fingers through your hair. “We’ve got all summer, baby, and then some.”

“Let’s make the most of it.”

-

The two of you were watching the new release of  _Romeo and Juliet_  at a drive-in theater, the two of you sitting in the backseat of Yoongi’s cruiser, his arm slung over your shoulders as he pulled you close to him. The summer air had cooled a few degrees along with the night, the screen illuminating along with the moon.

“Y'know, I never liked this play. Kill me, I mean it’s still his best, but like… Weren’t they kids? They were pulling some  _Lolita_  shit back then, too,” Yoongi notes, his eyes on the screen. All you could do was giggle in response.

You loved these kinds of dates with Yoongi. It was the first date he took you on, now that you recall. The two of you were watching a reshowing of  _The Sound of Music_ , a movie Yoongi would later tell you he could barely tolerate despite Julie Andrews’ brilliant performance.

Now that you think about it, a drive-in movie was also the first time the two of you had begun to get physical. You could recall the moment as if it were yesterday- the two of you watching some new Disney film as he fingered you in the car.

You felt heat pool in your stomach, and your thighs press together. You turn to him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck affectionately before giving small sucks and nibbles. It was always your tell, as you both knew it riled him up.

Yoongi sucked in a harsh breath. “Baby, can’t we wait until after the movie?”

“But Daddy…”

Yoongi tensed.

That was it- the golden word. There was a fine line between Yoongi and Daddy, and it was whenever you said the magic word that the beast would be unleashed. You still remember how you had teased him, on a night before you two had even started dating. You both snuck his dad’s beer and went onto the rooftop, drinking about what it’d be like once the two of you were older. Somehow the topic got to kinks, a taboo subject for your time. Hell, people weren’t even supposed to say the word pregnant on TV! And yet the two of you whispered and giggled, and he confessed in a drunken state that he always had a thing for the term, something he had learned from one of his male friends.

After delving into your sex life together, you found out you liked it too.

“You sure you want to do this right here, baby? Where anyone can see?”

“I’ll be quiet,” you promise, flicking your tongue over the curve of his jaw. “I want you.”

“I’ve got such an insatiable slut, don’t I?” he questions, his voice a low rasp as he soon pins you down in the back seat. You suck in your breath, the two of you diving out of view from other movie goers. Still, if they were to walk over and see what was going on in the convertible, you two would be dead.

All worries pass, however, as Yoongi hitches your shirt up over your bra, revealing your underwear beneath the layers of fabric. He’s quick to stuff your bra over your tits, letting them spill out, your panties landing on the car floor shortly after. Still, your dress remained on, quick to put down in case someone were to see what was happening.

Yoongi presses his lips against yours, his long fingers traveling down your body. You mewl as the digits slide up your folds, toying with your clit in a way that had your legs quiver on either side fo him. He played with you for a bit, swallowing any delicious moans that dared to escape your lips, before plunging a finger inside.

“So wet already, huh?” He chuckles, adding another without hesitation. “But we’ve got to be quick, babe. Can’t let anyone else see what’s mine, isn’t that right? You know what that means.”

You nod, your eyes wide with anticipation. “Please eat my ass, Daddy.”

“How can I say no to that?” He smirks, spreading your legs wide to bury his face between your thighs. Upon closer inspection, he notices that some of your arousal had started to spill down your cheeks, adding as an extra bit of lube for his upcoming meal. “My messy little girl. You’re gonna make a mess of the car, aren’t you?”

You aren’t even able to pathetically whine once his tongue is lapping over the puckered hole, collecting the juices that had dribbled down. He let it lay on his tongue, not swallowing a single drop before the pink muscles started to work around the rim, slowly entering the puckered hole.

The easiest way to get you wet was for him to eat your ass- nothing turned you on more. Perhaps it was because of how good it surprisingly felt, the lewdness of it all, or just the fact that Yoongi was doing it. Nevertheless, you shudder as a result, gushing for him so that more arousal landed on his awaiting tongue.

By the time he was done his face was drenched, from the tip of his nose being buried in your cunt to the bottom of his chin. He was a delectable sight, and you welcomed him with open arms as he smashed his lips against yours. You buried your hands through the gelled up locks, gripping onto the leather sleeves as he undoes his belt.

You feel the blunt head of his cock running along your folds, and you buck your hips up eagerly to meet his. He pushes inside, finding it an easy, though snug fit. The two of you moan, though his hand clasps over your mouth to silence you.

“Shh, pretty girl. You’re gonna have to be real quiet for Daddy, ok? I’m gonna fuck you nice and hard, just like you wanted, but you can’t make a single peep.”

You nod dumbly, his palm still on your lips as he begins to rock into you. Your eyes roll at the delicious feeling, his pelvic bone pressing against you in just the right way. It doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm, and a few seconds more and he finds your sweet spot, hitting it again and again once he knows he found it.

“You’re such a -mmf- good fu-fucking girl for Daddy, aren’t you?” He grunts with each thrust, feeling the way your nails rake into his arms even throguh the leather. “My good little witch, huh?”

Your pussy clenches around him like a vice, sucking him back in as your hips rock back against his. You’re sure by now people can notice the car rocking back and forth along with his thrusts, seeing how much force and vigor he’s putting into it. You don’t care though, the upcoming bliss threatening to push you over the edge.

“Are you close for Daddy already?” he questions, his voice a low rasp. “Are you gonna come all over this cock? Cream on my dick and get me nice and wet?”

Your eyes roll back once he places the hand that was on your mouth instead along the column of your throat, lightly squeezing. Your impending high comes over you as he pulls out, his hand repeatedly slapping against your quivering cunt as juices started to spray over him, ruining his pants and the car seats along with it. Yoongi didn’t seem to care much, though. It wasn’t the first time you squirted all over the nice seats- but there were helpful spells for that.

“Fuck, that’s it, soak me, baby. Look what a mess my nasty little girl made for her Daddy,” he cooes.

You ride the high, your breath uneven as you feel the bliss slowly die down, a comfortable, post-orgasmic buzz still looming through you.

“You alright, Y/N? You came pretty hard,” Yoongi cooes, his dominant persona halting in place of your considerate boyfriend.

You still see the straining erection, though, glistening in the moonlight with your juices.

You beckon him closer, curling your fingers in mid-air similar to how he was inside of you. “You didn’t get to cum.”

“It’s alright, baby. You don’t have to-”

“No, I want to. Come up here and fuck my face.”

God, how could he say no to that face? Without further hesitation or protest, he climbs up your body, straddling your face. Your hands come up to his ass, sitting him down as you return the favor, your tongue lapping over the pink rim and scrotum as he holds his cock up, stroking the shaft so that it didn’t land on your forehead.

Once you’re done eating his ass, you suck at his balls, knowing that’s what really got him going. He let out a guttural moan, still hunched over you so that no one else would see.

“Fuck, Daddy’s got a big load for you, baby. Think it’s time I fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” He scoots down some, placing his dick in your mouth as you relax your throat, signaling for him to begin.

He bucks into your mouth, his hips pointed down as he hovers over your face, listening closely to the sounds of you sucking him into your throat to take all of him. His pelvis lightly tapped the tip of your nose as he sunk down as far as he could, careful not to injure you in the process. You closed your eyes shut, focused on the sensation from his dick deep in your throat to the fine hair that brushed against your face.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Yoongi doesn’t take long, and it’s just when you feel your lungs about to collapse that he spills his load, the bitter liquid spilling down the column of your throat.

He climbs off of you as you swallow his cum, sucking in greedy breaths as he readjusts your clothing to its proper place.

“Are you ok? I think I was a bit too rough,” he says, brushing the side of your cheek to examine the mascara that was smudged around your eyes.

“I’m alright,” you laugh, your voice having a twinge of a rasp. You can’t help but smile at his concern, but the moment is quickly ruined when you hear your names being called.

“Shit,” Yoongi says, fixing you up one last time before making sure he’s decent.

You’re surprised to see his little brother, Yohan, run up to the car, screaming Yoongi’s name at the top of his lungs, drawing attention to you.

“What do you want, ankle-biter?” Yoongi says, clearly annoyed that his 15-year-old brother was here when you two were supposed to be on a date. “Aren’t you supposed to be-”

“Mom is dead.”

Yoongi freezes, his eyes as wide as saucers as he stares at Yohan in disbelief.

“What?”

-

Yoongi cried on your shoulder the entire time during the funeral. Unlike his brother, still very concerned with the image of masculinity and strength, refusing to shed a single tear no matter how many welled up in his eyes, Yoongi sobbed. His body shook as he stared hopelessly at the casket, letting you hold him in your arms. He was so faded, a mere husk.

He couldn’t so much as let out a single smile, still coping with his mother’s death. He let his precious jackets gather dust and his hair had gotten drab without the products he usually had. His friends had given him the space he needed, though would occasionally drop by to check on him. They knew that just a few weeks, however, wouldn’t be enough for their friend to move on.

The woman who raised him was gone forever. He believed he’d never see her again. He thought to his younger brother, who his mother would never teach to drive, who would never get the special birthday cake once he finally turned sixteen. Yoongi still remembered how embarrassed he was when his mother insisted on celebrating the event, even calling upon you to help her make it for the party. All of his friends came, insisting it was the best cake they ever had, and despite Yoongi’s protests against the idea, he couldn’t help but agree. The then 13-year-old Yohan had simply whined that he didn’t get his own cake, and their mother promised she’d make one for him once he was of age.

He’d never get it, though.

You’d drop by the most, bringing food and caring for his family. His father spent most of his nights out at the bar, drinking himself to sleep until he had to go to work the next day. His little brother, on the other hand, preoccupied himself with everything else, joining sports and hanging out with friends as though to distract himself. You would give Mr. Min a special hangover cure, (what he didn’t know was made of frog spit and unicorn blood), and you’d make sure to carry Yohan to his bed when he passed out on the couch after exhausting himself.

Yoongi was the most work admittedly. You were the one the boys often went to when they wanted updates on how Yoongi was. You had to make sure he ate and showered, caring for himself as he moped about the house on those hot summer days. You two hadn’t kissed, hugged, or made love since his mother’s death. You didn’t pester him, however, as you understood more than anyone else the meaning behind the absence of a parent. Perhaps if Yoongi had a clearer head he would’ve appreciated your efforts more, how you never once complained or gave up on him.

It took you a while to understand exactly how to act around him. Over the course of a month, you had become less of his girlfriend and barely even a best friend to more of a caretaker. You became responsible for him in a sense, becoming stern as you made sure he ate right and went out into the sun every once in a while, whether he wanted to or not.

At first, you wondered how you should treat him. Should you joke with him as friends? Should you give him affection as a girlfriend?

It didn’t seem he really needed either of those right now, though. You didn’t want to replace his mother by any means, but no one else was looking out for him, and he was so distraught that he didn’t feel the need to function properly.

It was at those desperate times that desperate measures were taken.

You had made yourself scarce lately, though still worked efficiently. Yoongi began to wonder if he should break up with you, for the time being, knowing that it was unfair for you to have to deal with this much pressure and care for him beyond necessary. He wasn’t being the best boyfriend, admittedly, but it was hard for him to put effort into anything with the grief consuming him.

He had been pondering calling you to discuss a break in the relationship until he sorted things out when knocked on his bedroom door. His mother had given you a house key years before, and with how things have been lately, you’ve been using it frequently.

“I need to show you something.”

“Y/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I know- I sensed a bit of it. You’re a bit more distressed than usual.”

Ah, yes, another part of the soulmate thing. Intense emotions could be sensed at certain times, sort of like a ringing in the back of the head or a tingling sensation. You were far more in tune with it than Yoongi was, being able to decipher what means what.

“I think we need to talk,” he says, his voice slow. He took in a deep breath, despite how much it hurt him knowing that he’d have to do this. You weren’t going ot be happy about this either, but knowing you, you’d understand. You’ve been more than understanding so far, but it was unfair for him to drag you through this.

You sat on his bed beside him, brushing your fingers tenderly across his cheek. “Alright. Say what you need to, Yoongs. I’ll listen.”

“I just don’t want you to be upset.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, as though already sensing what he wanted to tell you. “I promise I won’t get frosted, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you assure him, trying to tug a weak smile up.

Yoongi looked in his lap, piercing pain in his chest as his heart seemed to break for the second time. “I think we should break up.”

He saw how you tried to look unaffected, though you were clearly bracing yourself for it. From your stiff posture to your sucked in a breath, you weren’t surprised. Still, you weren’t happy about it either.

“Okay,” is all you say, a quiet voice.

“Call it a break or whatever you want- anything that makes you feel better. I still love you- I’m still  _in_  love with you- but this is unfair to you. You shouldn’t have to take care of me like my mother did just because I can’t seem to pick myself up. It’s cruel of me to drag you through this since I can’t prioritize our relationship right now.”

“Oh, Yoongi, you should know that I’d do this even if we weren’t dating.” Why were you two crying now? You had fast, hot tears rolling down your face, despite the fact you had anticipated this. He had slow, cold tears that didn’t even make it into his lap, despite the fact that he had been thinking about this for days. You shakily reach up to the pin above your heart, taking it down and putting it in his hands, closing his fingers around the small item. For two years, you had worn that over your heart every single day, no matter how it clashed with your outfits or how odd it looked. It seemed strange to see you without it, at this point. “Broken up or not, we’re still best friends. Soulmate, in fact.”

Yoongi cried, squeezing onto the small pin to the point that it hurt, his knuckles turning white as he threatened to draw blood. “I’m sorry,” he weeped. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you so much- you shouldn’t have to deal with this- with me.”

“Yoongi,” you say, your voice a plea as you wrap your body around his, shaking as well. “It’s alright,  understand. You’re not alone.”

He buries his face in your neck, ruining your blouse as he hugs you tightly, both of you crying and shaking, listening to your sobs and heartbeats becoming one.

You pet his hair, and after what felt like hours of you two embracing one another as your emotions flooded the room, it all seemed to come to a standstill. It was as though a river didn’t have a single drop of water left, barren and dry once everything had left it.

“Yoongi?” you whispered, your tone soft. “I still have that thing to show you.”

“Are you sure you still want to show me it?” he questions, his voice a mere rasp.

You nod, a weak smile pulling at your lips. “Positive. It’s more magic stuff- perhaps it’ll cheer you up.”

You two hadn’t been doing much of it lately, the most being whenever he wanted to turn into a cat so that you could hold him, reminding him of his mother’s embrace when she’d lull him to sleep as a toddler. But this was far more than the typical magic you two would indulge in.

Far more.

You left Yoongi’s house, a new sense of determination filling you. You had been preparing for this for a while- and it was now that you had to put your plan into action. Now was the time to truly begin your legacy.

You entered your house, which was darker than usual. It no longer teemed with life as it once did, the only light being Maximus, who glowed as nothing more than a small, dull flame.

“Y/N,” he croaked, his plea desperate. “I’ve seen how it’s consumed your parents- your entire family before. I know you won’t be like them, but you won’t be in the ways you need to be. Don’t do this.”

You give him a stern glare, your face stony. Giving no reply, you reach your hand into the flame, a sharp hiss leaving your lips as you flipped over a piece of coal, the ground below you sinking.

The dungeon that resided below- your parents’ favorite place. You had little memory of it when you were younger, as it had frightened you then. Now that you were older, however, it gave you a much more homey feeling, as though this was where you belonged.

Your hand glided over the forbidden pages, scrolls, and textbooks. You didn’t need to study these as rigorously as you did everything else, no doubt. This ran in your veins. You were a master at this craftsmanship before you even performed your first spell.

You looked over what you needed, potions and materials that were hard to come by- many of which were illegal in the witching community.

Sliding your oversized goggles over your face, you flipped over the thickest textbook, opening the bookmarked page as dust flew about. Coughing, you looked through the ancient text deciphering the code as you tried to collect yourself.

You had no doubt this would run smoothly.

But that’s what you were afraid of.

Taking a silver dagger, you began the ritual, cutting along the upper half of your inner arm, at the bicep, letting the fresh blood pool onto the floor. You smeared the blood onto your hands, painting the floor with the liquid until you made a pentagram.

You bandaged yourself up quickly, the cut not deep enough to cause a mortal wound, but deep enough to sting. Flurrying about the room, you looked for the ingredients. You took a cow’s eye and smooshed it into your bloody hands until it was the consistency of applesauce. Next, you took the heart of a virgin, the wings of a fairy, a jar of mist, and a vial of Yoongi’s blood. You placed each ingredient at a point on the pentagram.

Yes, it was done exactly as instructed. A pentagram of blood, from the witch who calls upon thee. A cow’s eye ground like mush, to help one see beyond. A virgin’s heart, pure enough for the blackest of souls to desire. The wings of a fairy, ripped from her so she may never fly again. A jar of mist, a direct source from the limbo between life and death. And lastly the blood of a mortal, who must be related to thee.

You took a piece of parchment, writing the name of who you wanted to call upon, before lighting it on fire with a flame from Maximus in the center of the pentagram. The fire spread from the center to the points, each of the ingredients flying up into smoke along with the blood, until the floor was completely clean.

Your heart hammered in your ears, the lump in your throat making it hard for you to so much as swallow as you stared at the smoke. It condensed, packing itself tightly together as though to break the laws of physics until the black turned into color, and you looked before at the figure, stark as the day it was born.

You didn’t dare to look at it, not wanting to think, and not wanting to feel. You threw the clothes you had prepared, stolen from Yoongi’s home, though no one even noticed. You banished the figure from your premises, ordering what it should do. It would walk downhill until it was at a house of great familiarity, and it would forget the day entirely and a little before.

So imagine Yoongi’s surprise when his mother stood before his front door, smiling as brightly as the afternoon sun, looking more youthful than ever before.

-

He couldn’t figure it out.

It was explained as some sort of grand mistake- whether it was miss-identification, a miracle, or lord knows what. He didn’t care what the explanation was, for his mother was back.

He didn’t believe it at first, dragging her to her grave, though finding it completely undisturbed. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that if he were to dig deep and open the casket, his mother’s corpse wouldn’t be in there. After all, she was standing beside him.

But could he call it a corpse? She looked better than he could even remember. More alive than before. She was healthy and happy, a youthful glow she couldn’t attain back when she was sick.

Everyone accepted it without further questions, as though put under a haze, a veil of ignorance draped before their eyes.

But Yoongi didn’t have the fortune of being blinded by said blissful blessing.

After a week’s time of staring at his mother and confirming she was, in fact, alive and present (though she had no memory of her death or how she came back), he marched to your house. He had been so preoccupied he didn’t even think to come to you, his now ex-girlfriend, to decipher how you had pulled off this fantastical feat.

He soon discovered, however, that it wasn’t fantastic in the slightest.

You had a gaunt expression, almost skeletal. You were faded, the blood drained from your face. You looked sickly and tired, as though the life was being sucked out of you.

You gave him a smile once you locked eyes.

“Merry Christmas,” you say jokingly, though you cough and sputter afterward. It took a lot of energy for you to even bring yourself to this, and here you were suffering the consequences.

“Y/N,” Yoongi said, reaching up to your face, cradling it in his hands as his eyes searched you for clues. “What happened?”

“A bit of a flu, perhaps,” you excuse, closing the door behind you.

“This isn’t a flu,” he snaps, worry straining his voice. “What happened to you? What did you do? How’d you bring my mother back?”

Your legs were wobbly, and you shook with great force before collapsing into Yoongi’s arms. He caught you easily, finding you lighter than before, as though you had lost a tremendous amount of weight in the past week. He carried you to the living room, the place lifeless and dull.

It was at that moment you burst out crying.

“Y/N? Y/N, please tell me what’s going on? Are you ok? What happened?” The color drained from his face. “Y/N… what did you do?”

“What I had to,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi, I’ve been lying to you this entire time. The entire time we’ve known each other, it’s all been just one big fat lie. I should’ve told you sooner.”

He stands up, eyes wide as he looks at you in horror. “What? What lie?”

You wipe your tears, staring him in the face. “My parents were never dead, Yoongi. They never could be, really.”

“What?” His mind is muddled and disoriented, everything vertigo. “What do you mean?”

You chuckle lowly, though it’s humorless in every sense of the word. “Do you remember when you first came to this house, love? Before I told you a single thing about my magic?”

“Yes?” He was hesitant, unsure of where you were getting at.

You pointed one gnarled finger, and he followed the direction, his eyes landing on what you indicated.

His stomach dropped.

“The painting?”

You nod, more tears falling from your face when you recounted the memory. “My family is of the Mortem Clan, one of the most powerful in all of witch history, but also one of the most dangerous and evil. Mortem is Latin for death, and we were feared throughout all of our lives by the other clans. We were the devil worshipers that many were falsely accused of being. Necromancers. We specialize in death, from killing to reviving. Torturing souls until they drop dead only to bring them back to life and do it all over again. We’d bring back greedy kings who wanted to rule forever, and we’d bring back our worst enemies who couldn’t even beg for death. That is my own family talent.

"We are especially good at it, in every sense of the word. It runs throguh our veins as the Nile runs through Egypt. You cannot escape your bloodline, no matter how you escape your family. I’m the most talented of all, supposedly, and the last of my generation. No other exists, whether it’s because some of my relatives were cursed, or because they couldn’t find a suitable partner. We’re a vain type, between you and me; prideful despite the flaws that society illuminated.

"Witches aren’t even supposed to live among mortals, but my parents figured it’d be best for me to grow up someplace where I wouldn’t be feared. As you well know, though, another family talent appears to be being shunned. Nevertheless, they wanted a quiet life- or at least my father was. After the war, he simply wanted to settle down, but he had fallen in love with a Mortem; a simple life was never in the cards.

"My mother fell for him too, oddly enough, but when it came to me she put her foot down. I had magical abilities despite my human father, and great ones at that. By the time I could walk I had risen a cow from the dead. I was exceedingly well at it, of course, and my mother was proud, and my father was supportive as always.

"Everything changed when I was eleven, though. My mother had brought a young woman, lulled by either seduction or deceit into our home, from another town so that we wouldn’t be suspected. My mother slit her throat in front of me, as though it were a cruel practice lesson. She urged me to raise her from the dead, but I had been so traumatized and frozen, I couldn’t do it. Perhaps now I would’ve but she put too much faith in me. My magic was of a God’s, but my brain was still of a little girl’s. Besides, I had known that if I did revive the woman, she’d be subjected to the same fate over and over again.

"The details are hazy, but I remember my mother screaming and shaking me, and my father coming close to help calm her down. I was so overwhelmed that my magic simply burst, a spell no one knew. Before I knew it my parents were trapped in a painting, and even after all these years I haven’t found out how to get them out.”

You stared at the painting with a sullen look, your mother’s eyes narrowing as you recounted events, her glare meeting yours. Your father only offered a sympathetic look, placing his hand on his wife’s shoulder to hold her close to him.

You blinked away tears, both you and  Yoongi diverting your attention to one another. “You don’t deserve a liar, Yoongi. I had never felt so alone before, and you came in. It was a mistake getting our souls tied together, but at that point I was desperate. I had no friends, and now no family. You could’ve had a nice mortal girl to become your high school sweetheart, but instead, you got me, nothing more than a dangerous liar. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off, and after on I figured it was too late.”

“Y/N, what happened wasn’t your fault. It’s your mother’s for putting you in that situation. Of course you’d feel overwhelmed at eleven,” Yoongi reasons.

“Perhaps, but it is my fault for keeping the secret from you all these years. There’s no one else to blame but me.”

Yoongi’s quiet at that. “I suppose. What changed though? You seemed to use every other spell now that I think about it.”

“After the traumatizing experience, I had vowed never to dive into my true talent- especially when I had you. I didn’t want to mess things up any further by getting you involved in dark magic. I knew if I told you the truth about necromancy you’d ask why I didn’t bring my parents back, and everything would start to unravel. But then your mother died, and I love you so much Yoongi- I figured I owed you at least that much.”

“Why are you so frail and sickly, though?”

You laughed bitterly at that. “Death has a price in all shapes and ways, a fashion that will never go out of style, no matter how much time passes. Raising a human from the dead is an amazing feat; therefore, it requires just as an amazing of a sacrifice. Some say it’s because those who are in Death’s embrace should remain in his arms, others say it’s because he wants there to be balance in the scales. The Mortem clan does the devil’s work of giving a steady flow of souls in and out of hell, so there’s a simple rule: take a soul, give a soul. Long story short, in order to keep your mother here I must sacrifice a soul by the next full moon. If not, my own life will be the one taken, and I’ll be seated at the right side of Lucifer with the rest of my ancestors.”

Yoongi froze. “You can’t mean that.”

You were silent.

He grabs onto you, as though trying to grip both you and him to reality. “You mean you’ll die within, what, a few days? No, Y/N, you can’t die. I won’t let you. I love you, goddammit.”

“You love your mother, too,” you say, pushing his hands off of you with what little strength you had, tears falling down your chin to slide along the curve of your jaw. You could barely even look at him. “You were destroyed when she was gone. I had to bring her back.”

“I’ll be destroyed when you’re gone too! No, what am I saying, when? If! No, you won’t be gone, I won’t allow it.”

“You deserve a good girl who won’t lie to you, who you can have a normal life with. We’ll be far apart once we’re in school anyway, and I don’t want to hold you back. With my death, our souls will be untethered, and you’ll be free to live your life as it was meant to be: without me. A devil’s servant isn’t what you deserve by any means. This was the least I could do for burdening you for so long.”

“Burden?” He laughed bitterly. “You’re the love of my goddamn life, Y/N. We’ll get a sacrifice to replace you and my mother, but I’m not letting go of you. We’re soulmates even without the spell, goddammit. We were meant to meet, we were meant to be friends, we were meant to fall in love. I won’t hesitate to get someone else-”

“No,” you say, your hand on his chest. You stared him in the eye. “The witch who performed the ritual must replace the soul herself, and I refuse to kill anyone. That is the one moral I’ll hold onto. I’ll replace your mother in the realm of the dead, I’ll take her place. It’s about time my clan ended, anyways.”

“No!” Yoongi was sobbing, hugging onto you tightly. You were limp, letting him, though you couldn’t even embrace him back. “I won’t let you! Y/N, you’re the girl I was planning to marry.”

“Was,” you muse. “You’re already beginning to become accustomed to the idea, it seems. A Freudian slip.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Shh.” You place your hand over his mouth, no longer crying, a look of contentment on your face. “Be happy, Yoongi. Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste. I’ll love you from even down below. They used to say that us Mortem don’t have hearts, that we don’t even have souls, but I know that to be true, for no soulless, heartless being can lover another with the capacity that I love you.”

-

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow you’d die.

It had been three days time since you told him the truth- the complete truth. In that time his mother had brought joy to the family, all traces of grief gone when she so much as smiled. Each day Yoongi went to you, begging you to save yourself so that you could be together.

Each time you refused.

There was one thing you had said, however, that stuck with him.

_“Raising a human from the dead is an amazing feat; therefore, it requires just as an amazing of a sacrifice. Some say it’s because those who are in Death’s embrace should remain in his arms, others say it’s because he wants there to be balance in the scales.”_

According to that, the only way to save you from having to sacrifice yourself would be to take away the need for a sacrifice.

AKA, have his mother return to the realm of the dead.

Not exactly like he got a kick out of the idea, of course. He found himself between a rock and a hard place, a strange place of limbo as he looked between the two options.

Essentially he had to choose either you or his mother.

His mind spun, and he tried to collect his thoughts. On one hand one of the possible reasons for the need of a sacrifice is that the dead should stay dead. On the other hand, you yourself told him to make your sacrifice worthwhile.

So here he was, a kitchen knife in hand in the dead of night, the waxing moon looming over him as though to make his decision.

He closed his eyes, and there were two things he’d see. The first image was of his mother’s corpse in the open casket, her skin becoming grey and her lips becoming blue as she slowly began to rot. Her skin and flesh would melt away until only a skeleton remained.

The second image was of you, what he had seen today. You looked similar to his mother’s corpse, on the brink of death, unable to so much as rise from your bed. You couldn’t even be called a dead girl walking, and instead reminded him of an elderly woman on her death bed, not at all like the young, vibrant teen you were but a few weeks before.

It was an impossible decision. His mother or his girlfriend? (Technically ex-girlfriend).

He walked down to the kitchen to get himself a midnight snack, still pondering over the two options when to his surprise he saw his mother. She was collecting the dishes, humming a lovely melody, as content as could be.

She looked at him, her face brightening up. “Oh, Yoongi, my sweet boy! What’re you doing up at this hour? I know it’s summer and all, but I don’t want this to become a habit.”

Yoongi hid the knife behind his back, staring at her. “Oh… I just wanted a snack.”

She shook her head, smiling as she ruffled his hair with delight. “You want to help me make Yohan’s cake? I’ve got some of the ingredients, but it’ll take a few days to make. I can’t believe my little boys are growing up so fast!”

That’s right- Yohan would finally be able to taste his mother’s special cake on his sixteenth birthday.

“You know, it was just yesterday when you were as big as my thigh- you were as long as my knee to my hip, you know that? My precious baby boy, how could I forget?” She cooed at him softly, stroking his face with affection. “You boys are the light of my life, you know that? I know I don’t get to say it often since you two are teens and don’t want your mother babying you… but I’ll never love anything more than you two. You’re my everything, and I hope you two find a purpose to your life the way I found mine in yours. You’re what kept me fighting- even throguh cancer.”

Yoongi felt a lump in his throat, tears welling up in his eyes, slipping down his cheeks. He felt as though he had been crying far too much recently. By now he should be out of tears.

His mother’s thumb swiped over the tear, catching it as she gave him a tender smile. “Tears, Yoongi? It’s alright, Mom’s here. I’ll always be here.”

“I know,” he choked out, his voice cracking.

Her eyes began to well up too, and she wiped any tears away. “Gosh, I don’t know why I’m crying. Silly me.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Ca-an I have a hug?”

“Of course, my sweet boy.” She wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he buried his face in her hair. Despite the fact he was taller than her by a great margin, he still felt like the little boy who needed an embrace from his mother after getting bullied on the playground. She stroked his hair softly, her warmth enveloping him entirely. “I love you more than anything in the world, Yoongi. Never forget that.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

With that, he raised the blade, plunging the knife into her back.

-

When you woke up, you felt like yourself again. Looking down at your arms, they seemed young and fresh, no longer just skin and bones. A new sense of energy had regenerated you, youth showing in your face again. You no longer resembled death incarnate, but at that reminder, your heart sunk.

You knew why.

You ran to down the stairs, fully intent on going to Yoongi’s to question what had happened. To your surprise he was on the couch, blood staining his clothes, a dark look in his eye.

“Yoongi?”

His head snapped to turn to you, and before you knew it he was running to you, his lips smashing against yours. You tasted tears and blood, but you returned the kiss, missing the taste of him that lingered beneath the odd mixture against his lips. It had been so long since you kissed him.

You break free, eyes searching and questioning his expressions. “Yoongi…”

“I did.” It was a short phrase, only two words and syllables, but you knew.

You held him tightly, burying your face in his chest, feeling his tears weave into your hair. You two are silent for a minute, soaking up the moment. Ultimately it was Yoongi who truly had to make the sacrifice. He chose you over his own mother.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out.

“No- don’t be. The dead are supposed to stay dead. It’s cruel to keep her in this world when you get to it. At least I got to tell her I loved her one last time. My family and I will have to cope, but we’ll find a way. We can’t stay focused on the past, we can only learn and appreciate it for what it was. We have to live not only in the present but also for the future. You’re both of those things for me, Y/N. My mother lived out her purpose in life, and I don’t think yours was to die on account of my own grief.”

“I’ll help you clean everything up before your family wakes up.”

“No need. Once she… once she died in my arms, she sort of went up into this black smoke. Besides, I wouldn’t want to have you bury a body for a second time,” he assures you.

You look up at him, stroking his face, clearing it of blood and tears, and going on your tippy toes to give him a tender kiss. He kissed you back, arms tight around you, and at that moment you thought not of death, not of college, not of your own sins- instead you only thought of his embrace.

And that was right where you wanted to be.


End file.
